Before the Post Script
by Tall on the Inside
Summary: "This is a letter. That I'm writing. For you.That was a bad opening. I should probably start again. But I'm not going to send you this. Ever. I just thought maybe getting my thoughts down on paper might free up some space in my head. I'm writing this because... because I love you. And I want to tell you." Spamano oneshot. Antonio confesses his love for Lovino in a letter.


So.

This is a letter. That I'm writing. For you.

That was a bad opening. I should probably start again. But I'm not going to send you this. Ever. I just thought maybe getting my thoughts down on paper might free up some space in my head. Of course, you all think there's more than enough space in my head, because I don't have a brain. I agree. I'm an idiot. I'm just as oblivious as everyone says, and I have no clue how I'm getting the grades I am at school. I don't know why they're better than yours. You should have them. I'll give them to you, if you like. You work harder, you want them more. You deserve them more than I do; I don't do the work properly, or revise, or anything. I guess I'm just ridiculously lucky.

Except I wasn't writing this because I was thinking about how lucky I am. I'm writing this because... because I love you. And I want to tell you. I know that if I ever say it to your face you won't believe me, or you'll laugh, or you'll just turn me down, and that'd be the end of our friendship. And that's why I haven't told you. Our friendship is one of the things I actually care about. I don't want to risk it.

Not that I'm going to send it to you, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if you read this. Because, even though it means so much to me, I'm tired of our friendship. I'm tired of feeling second best when I put you first, when I will always, always put you first. I'm sick of the heart-wrenching pain that comes with meeting your gaze, with sitting close to you, with almost touching you. I'm fed up of the constant repression of the urge to reach out and grab your hand whilst you sit next to me. One of these days, I'm just going to do it. It just seems so natural, so right.

I can't even ruffle your hair without feeling like crying anymore Lovi, because I know it's the only part of you that will ever be mine, that I'll ever be able to reach out and touch, that I'll ever be able to caress.

Our friendship is slowly breaking up. This time next year, I'll be at University somewhere, and you'll still be here. You'll have forgotten me in another five. I will never mean to you what you mean to me. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I love you unlike any other. But I'll be gone soon, and you won't even care. I know that you don't hate me, that your insults are your way of showing me you care, but that doesn't make it any different.

You don't hate me, but you don't love me either.

I haven't always loved you, so I can't expect you to throw yourself at me. I'm just that annoying guy from across the street, right? The one who always had an almost-stalker-like obsession with you.

It was innocent originally. I had a girlfriend when we first met after all; it wasn't love at first sight. I remember the day we met vividly though... It was years ago, and I still remember it. I was fourteen. You were eleven. Or twelve. That bit I forget. You were hanging out washing. I kicked my football into your garden. You threw it at me, beat me senseless, and yelled words I'd never heard someone as adorable as you say. Scary words. Swear words, cuss words, your usual vocabulary.

Francis thought you were insane, Gilbert found you hilarious, and I just watched you go red in the face and decided you were the cutest thing I had ever seen. And you were so short for a twelve-year-old! So little and so red and so cute!

Back then, I just wanted to be your friend. I'm glad you gave me the chance to show you I wasn't just an airhead. I mean, I am an airhead, but I'm also... I've never been very good with describe-ey words. But I was so happy to be your friend. I've loved it. I've loved every second we spent together. I loved you like a brother.

I don't know what changed, but something did. I don't know when that happened, but if I had to guess, I'd say... around the beginning of this year. So... it's September now, that would make it... seven- no, nine months. Nine months I've loved you for.

And I'm sick of it.

I don't want to love you anymore, if you're never going to love me back.

I never felt this way with Bella. Bella was my girlfriend for three years, and I never felt like my heart was going to split whenever she smiled at me, I never felt the same thrill at seeing her name illuminate my phone screen that I get when I see "Lovino" there. Her name never brought tears to my eyes, and her love never made me feel as warm and complete as your occasional smiles or awkward hugs do.

Me and Bella grew up together. I loved her like a sister, then I loved her differently, then she felt more like my sister again. Francis says that I'll fall out of love with you like I did with her, if I wait long enough, but I don't think I will. It's a different kind of love with you.

When me and Bella broke up, it wasn't just because I felt like I was dating my sister; I thought I liked that Austrian girl. Bella was fine with splitting, and she's had many relationships since- ours was the longest she'd ever been in. There's no awkwardness between us. She's my sister again. She worries about me, because I haven't had a girlfriend since her.

But I don't want a girlfriend. I want you.

I did think I loved Rina, I won't lie. She gave me no reason to suspect she wasn't interested in me, but... but I just knew she liked someone else. And then Gil kept dropping hints, and Francis worked it out. I think everyone did, except Rina. So we convinced the two to go out. I thought the pain then was bad; I thought that it hurt to see my best friend and the girl I wanted together, but that is nothing compared to how I feel now. I did the right thing back then, persuading the two to get together. I don't regret it. Even if it made me miserable.

Rina never made me feel the way you do, Lovi.

It was a few months after Gil and Rina got together that Francis and Bella decided they'd try to set me up with someone. And that was when I realised I was in love with you; that the jealousy I felt whenever you spoke to someone else was because I wanted you to be mine, and mine only. It wasn't because I felt left out.

I'd always thought I'd been straight. Working out my feelings for you confused me beyond belief. But then I realised that, while I was attracted to girls, I could appreciate how attractive men were too. I decided that love had nothing to do with gender. I would have loved you if I was a woman. I would have loved you if you were a woman. I would have loved you regardless.

It's Lovino Romano Vargas I've fallen in love with; not a boy, not a girl, not a gender, but a living, breathing person. Your faults, flaws, weaknesses, all are nonexistent in my eyes. The things you don't like about yourself make me love you even more. It hurts me to see such a wonderful person corrupted by hate, but then, every once in a while, I see you laugh, or smile; I catch that gleam in your eye and I know that the foul-mouthed angry Italian you are is an act. An act so you don't get hurt. And I think you've let me see that this is an act because you've worked out I'll never hurt you.

Hurting you is the last thing I would ever want to do. Who would want to cause any form of pain to the most perfect thing God put on this Earth?

Part of me has wanted to tell you this since I started feeling this way. Part of me never wants to tell you. But I'm tired, Lovi. I'm sick of being second best to those I put first- No, I'm sick of being second best period. I want someone to put me first, to value me beyond anything, and I know it's selfish, but I don't want to be the third wheel anymore. Or the fifth wheel, for that matter. Because it's awkward enough being left out when it's just me and Cissy and Gil, and they laugh about stuff I don't understand, and talk about things that confuse me; it's so much worse when we go out together, and they decide to bring their girlfriends.

Half of the reason it hurts so much isn't because I'm being ignored, or neglected, or left out, it's because I'm jealous. It makes me sick, sometimes. Just writing this, my fists are clenching because I should be holding you. I should be able to hold you like Gil holds Rina or Francis holds Michelle.

But I never will be able to hold you like that; I'm reminded of that every time I see you. And then, every time I close my eyes, I forget. In the world of my dreams, you're mine, Lovi. And I know that's the only time you'll ever be mine.

Those dreams, the dreams in which we're together, they've become more frequent. I've been having them more often since you came out to me.

I remember that day; it was sunny. Francis and Gil had invited me out with them- they were going to see some film, and they were, of course, both bringing their respective others... Our trio has clearly become a quartette, in which I am neither the third nor fourth member of- and I was all up for going, but then you text. It was bizarre and out-of-the-blue, and such a Lovi thing to do. I hadn't heard from you in weeks, and then suddenly, "Hey, bastard, I'm fucking sick of my family; if you don't meet me later, I'll hate your fucking retarded guts forever."

You weren't sick of your family; you were sick of your brother. Or, more specifically, your brother's boyfriend, Ludwig. You said that he'd been spending a lot of time at your house, and when he wasn't there, Feliciano went on about him so much you would think he was there. You were ranting and your face was going so adorably red that I'm almost didn't notice what you said. But I did. It was something along the lines of, "It's not like the potato-fucking bastard is even that attractive. I mean, I'm bisexual and I don't find anything mildly appealing about him!"

And you just continued to whine about him. It was like you didn't even notice what you had said. Until you noticed my reaction.

I just kind of froze- there were too many emotions and thoughts and... and I'm not really used to them. I don't think that much; at least, I didn't, until I started thinking about you every second of every day. I don't usually feel anything other than happiness, or sadness, or sometimes anger. But at that moment... At that moment I felt a wave of conflicting emotions, so contradictory to each other that it shouldn't have been possible to feel them all at once.

Hope. Hope and betrayal.

It hurt that you hadn't told me you were bisexual, and when you finally noticed my stiffened body, and asked, "Bastard, what the fuck is wrong now?" I just repeated it. That word. Bisexual.

As in, liking both sexes.

One of the sexes being male.

Male being my gender.

And I just whispered to you, "You're bisexual?"

Your face went red for something that wasn't anger then. Embarressment, maybe. Worry. Confusion. Realisation that it had slipped in. Bella knew, you said. That was it. Bella and Feli. Probably Elizaveta also; she just knew things like that, and Bella was her friend too. But you hadn't told anyone else- you weren't planning on ever telling anyone else.

I nearly did it. Right at that moment. I nearly told you not to worry, at least you'd told three more people than I had. Because I hadn't told anyone. I would've never told anyone, if Francis had just left me alone that one evening.

I was miserable that you hadn't told me, that you didn't want to tell me, that you didn't trust me. It just made me feel inferior again. Yet at the same time, I felt so wonderfully happy. Happy and full of hope.

Because if you were bisexual, you could like men- see, even an idiot like me knows that.

I also knew I was a man.

Wait, scratch that; shouldn't that say I also know I am a man? I don't know. I was never very good with my tenses... I'm not any good with tenses? I give up. I really do.

Anyway, I was lit up with this hope we could be together, that all my dreams had come true, and I think that fueled me for the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

But, of course, I came back to reality rather quickly, when I saw you around other people; I like to think I'm the only one who can break your shield, who can see you for the beautiful soul you really are, but I'm not. And why would I be? I'm not you. I'm nothing special. I'm not talented, or all that smart. I'm not beautiful. Hell, I'm not even the same age as you. I'm nearly eighteen, you're fifteen going on sixteen.

Does that make me a paedophile? Gilbert joked about that once. But love doesn't care about gender, or age.

There are people your own age who you get on well with; that Kirkland dick being one of them. I can't stand him. He's so smug all the time, and he has such a superior air to him... It really pisses me off. Not to mention he always brings up something like... Like England defeating the Spanish Armada whenever we speak. But he makes you happy. You two get along. I bet you'd get along with Ivan's little sister. She's in your year. I can't think of the others you usually hang out with; you and your brother are both friends with some Asian kid, right? And isn't there some French-speaking girl? With glasses?

I don't know; the point is, I'm not your only friend. I'm not the friend you trust or care for the most. And I want to be.

I think you hate me. You stopped replying to my texts. You don't answer my emails. You're never online when I log in, and while Gil says it's just down to chance, I think you're avoiding me. Just tell me you don't want to be my friend anymore, Lovi. Tell me you prefer Bella, or Kirkland, or someone I don't know, but at least let me know. At least say it to me, face-to-face, if only so I can hear that beautiful accented voice of yours one final time.

I think I will send you this. You haven't spoken to me all week. The odds we'll talk tomorrow are low. I don't want to go my entire life without telling you that I feel this way about you. I don't know how more obvious I can be! I've flirted! At least, I think I have. I've complimented you since we met, but they've gotten stronger recently. I tell you you're wonderful, beautiful... I tell you I love you in the middle of the night, after you've stopped texting, after you've gone offline, after you've hung up. That's when I whisper it. When I'm the only one who can hear it.

This letter will change that. If I send it, that is.

I won't. I don't know. I'll definitely save it. Maybe send it when I'm certain I'll never speak to you again. Maybe I'll send it tomorrow. I don't know.

But I do know that I love you, Lovi. I've never felt this way about anyone before. Francis says that, now I have, that means I'll be able to feel this way for other people, but I don't think I will, Lovi. I think I'll only ever feel like this about you. And I get that you won't return the feeling.

But I can still hope. And dream. And wish. I'll be able to do these things forever. And I intend to.

So, honestly in love with you,  
Honestly in heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, agonising love with you,  
Well aware the feeling will never be returned,  
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo

- Oh, and, I don't know what you'd call this, (PS, Afterword, whatever), but I forgot to get it in; don't ever change, Lovi. Stop comparing yourself to your brother. Stop thinking that Feli's perfect. He's adorable, yes. He's kind and nice to be around. He brightens up the room, and he brings happiness in his wake.

But Feliciano isn't perfect.

How could he ever even be considered perfect? He's not you.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry this isn't the most in-character thing I've ever written. Sorry for this in general. The reasons behind this oneshot can be found below. If you don't care, you can close this page now. Or you could review, or maybe even favourite? Urgh I know. It's not even any good. It's an old oneshot. And it's depressing. I only ask that, if you do review, please don't hate on it. If you don't have anything nice to say... Yeah.

If you're a follower, and you don't care about this story's origin, skip to the **bold** at the bottom of the page; you'll find a bit about some of my other work.

Yesturday was International Suicide Awareness Day, or something. Prevention Day, maybe? I forget. This note was written yesterday, but my laptop blue screened before I had a chance to upload. But a lot of the pages I like on Facebook have had people posting little oneshots, barely a thousand words long, most of them, and so I thought I would go through all my old stories, and see if I had anything about suicide.

I didn't, but I found this instead. I read it, and honestly, I almost cried. I barely remember writing it, and then I noticed when I'd saved it, and remembered.

On the twenty-sixth of March, this year, I lost my uncle. He was fighting a life-threatening disease in a foreign country that didn't have the best medical care- at least, the medical care they did have was far too much for my family to afford. We weren't even on the same continent, it was extremely hard to look after him. His human rights were abused, and the university that he was employed at is now being sued by a delightful Australian human rights' activist who has decided he will never let what happened there happen ever again. I felt so heart-broken, so miserable, so lost and upset and conflicted that evening. I wanted to write something that captured how I felt but... I ended up with this instead.

I thought that, since it was written from me being depressed about death, and suicide is death, it would work with today. So that's part of the reason I'm uploading.

The other part is because it had been God-only-knows how long since I uploaded a oneshot. I think the last one was "Songs Screamed from a Ship, Long Since Sank", which I wrote for the bloody Titanic's 100th Anniversary. In April. You lot deserve a oneshot.

_So, I guess this story is, in many ways, dedicated to those who have ever loved anyone, and lost them, either by death, or by a parting of the ways. Thanks for reading._

**However, now that that depressing boringness is over;**

_I know Arianna in Wonderland is due to be updated today, but I've been busy with school and stuff! I went back on Tuesday, it's really confusing, we have a two-week timetable now (I disapprove, I disapprove, I disapprove), and yeah. Because of the format it's in, the story is always a tad complex for me to write. So that will probably be late. I'm about... halfway through the chapter. It probably won't be uploaded until after Normality is updated. Sorry. _

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, at least a little. I mean, it's a sad story, and it doesn't even have a happy ending, so yeah... Maybe, if you guys like, I could write a second part, where Romano reads the letter, realises he feels the same... Or not. I like it like this. You be the judges. **

Hope I see you soon on another story~


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